Mistaken Identity

The other day, I took my four year old nephew to Target for a hot dog and video (we are starting him early on a love of shopping. His future wife will thank us for this). There were already two women in line at the snack bar, so we got out drinks and stood behind them.

It was then I realized that the woman directly in front of us resembled a witch. She had shoulder length frizzy, gray hair, two big medalion necklaces, thick rings on just about every finger, a black T-shirt and vest, and, yes, a black, pointy hat! (More a Lord of the Rings, medieval, floppy kind of hat than a Wizard of Oz, Disney, tall, pointy kind of hat, but a witch's hat nonetheless.)

This was not a good thing. My nephew is at the age where he notices everything and questions it. I could hear it now: "Are you a good witch or a bad witch? Can I have your hat? Where is your broom? Do you know Harry Potter?"

Desperately, I looked around for something to distract him. Aha! A fire extinguisher was hanging on the wall by the counter. Since his current life ambition is to be either a firefighter or a policeman, I figured this would do the trick.

Success! His eyes grew wide, his little mouth formed a perfect circle, he leaned forward...and practically trampled the woman in front of us trying to touch the giant extinguisher. Like a guided missile locked on a target, he saw nothing or no one else. He pushed and shoved his way to the front of the line. One thought only occupied his brain-- must get to extinguisher...must touch.

Okay, so this was not a good thing either. Maybe I should have risked having a spell cast upon us after all. Would it really be so bad to get a good night's sleep for the next hundred years or so?

Bump. The witchy woman steadied herself on the counter and looked at us over her shoulder. "Apologize to the nice lady," I admonished, and got a raised eyebrow and definite attitude ( from her!). Thump. "Sorry ma'am." (Me). Glare. (Her again).

Before he could launch a third offensive, I got him in a hold that would make Hulk Hogan proud and expained to him that he was disturbing the lady in front of us and that he should behave like a gentleman. "What would the firefighter's say if they could see you pushing ladies around?" I asked, throwing in a little psychology.

At this, the woman turned around completely and, with both hands on her hips, gave us the evil eye. Uh oh. Were we about to be turned into toads? Would she lock us in a tower and feel us poisoned apples?

Bravely, we faced her, waiting for the wand to be pulled out from her sleeve or from under her hat, or whereever it is that suburban witches who shop at Target keep them. Maybe we could throw our lemonades on her and she would melt.

It was then that I realized why she was giving us "the look". Our witch wasn't a witch after all. He was a warlock!

And I was afraid of what my nephew would say?!!?

B